


One More Time

by vanillafluffy



Category: Highlander - All Media Types, Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Harry Hart Lives, Immortals, immortal harry hart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 05:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: For the prompt, "Harry Hart's first death is in Kentucky".





	One More Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tigriswolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/gifts).



“No need for an autopsy,” says the emergency room doctor. His patient, who’d been shot in the head, lived for only a few minutes after arriving at the hospital. “It’s pretty obvious what killed him.”

An orderly takes away the gurney with the still form of Harry Hart on it. A wheel squeaks as he pushes it down the hall to the elevator. In the elevator, he presses the button for the basement.

May Meacham leans back in her chair reading a Patricia Cornwall novel. A radio plays Lynyrd Skynyrd in the background. She’s been the pathologist at Mercy Memorial for a decade; in a few years, she’ll move on, but for now, it suits her. South Glade is a mostly quiet community. After the chaos of her last job in a big city, quiet has its attraction.

“Got a customer for you, May,” the orderly announces, pushing the gurney into the morgue. “You heard about that set-to at the church?”

“It’s been on the radio,” May replies, setting the book face-down on her desk blotter. “Sounds like it was a bloodbath.”

“Sounds like. Charlie on the ambulance crew that brought this fellow in said he was the only one who even made it out the door. The rest of ‘em was all still inside…he said it looked like something out of a Tarantino movie.”

“Dang,” May says. She’s originally from Boston, but over the years, she’s learned to adapt her speech to her surroundings--although saying “Bless your heart!” still makes her roll her eyes. 

“I’ll leave you to it.” 

Once he’s gone, May thoughtfully approaches the gurney. Draws back the sheet to examine the dead man. Well-groomed, late forties…probably didn’t think he was going to die in that nice suit when he’d put it on that morning. He’s still warmish. She cleans the blood away from the head wound that killed him. With forceps, she extracts the bullet that did the damage. Pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of the gruesome details.

Then she settles herself back into her chair and picks up her book. It doesn’t do to get too gung-ho; it’s a feeling she has, but he doesn’t need to go into the fridge right away.

Pages turn. Alabama plays, then Molly Hatchet. The man on the gurney sits up, staring at her blankly. “Hello,” he says uncertainly. “Is this St. Vincent’s?”

He has a British accent, which is the cutest thing. “No, honey. This is Mercy General Hospital in South Glade, Kentucky. In America,” she adds for good measure. His brow creases. “Was that your first time dying?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. I’d better explain--there are a very, very few people who can’t be killed except by decapitation. Looks like you’re one of them. Now that you’ve died and come back, you won’t age, you’ll just keep going as long as your head’s still attached.”

“Are you saying I’m…immortal?” he asks dubiously.

“Basically.” May smiles. “I know I look thirty-something, but I died the first time in 1953. As far as I can tell, we age normally unless we die of some non-organic cause. That seems to trigger something in our bodies that freezes our normal biological processes.”

“No offense, madame, but that’s preposterous.”

This is why she’s learned to document things. She shows him the picture she took of him, shattered skull, leaking brains and all. He blanches. The radio segues from an Allman Brothers song to an announcer recapping details of the South Glade Mission Church Massacre. The man shudders. Touches his head, which has closed up, without so much as a scar.

“You can’t talk about this,” she cautions. “We’ve been around forever, no pun intended and most of us are perfectly sane and normal, but average people would freak out; they'd hunt us down and lock us up to experiment on. I hope you can keep a secret.”

He actually giggles at that. Well, most people are a bit unsettled by the news. She’s met a few of them; this isn’t the first time she’s given ‘the talk’. It’s why pathology seemed a natural specialization after her own transition. 

“What’s one more secret?” he asks with a smile. “Thank you for your assistance, Doctor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to contact my office. There are critical matters I need to attend to.” He stands up, looking around for the exit.

“Not so fast.” There’s a box of miscellaneous garments in the other room. May finds him a jacket. “It’s not as nice as yours, but all that blood is liable to call attention to you, Mister--”

“Please forgive me if I’ve been gauche,” he apologizes. “I beg your pardon--I’m Harry Hart.”

 

…


End file.
